


.22

by Khateeah



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, Crying, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Mild Blood, Sad Ending, Self-Harm, Snuff, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 17:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8293271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khateeah/pseuds/Khateeah
Summary: Jesse lays Peacekeeper down for the last time.





	

Jesse had only owned one gun in his lifetime. Though he’d fired more than he could count, only one of them could he rightfully claim as his own. **  
**

Peacekeeper.

A simple six-shooter on her face, but she’d been custom built just for him - a gift, from the only father he’d ever known. Her hammer, her sights, even her grip had been tailor-made, crafted with specialized (and highly classified) technology that allowed her to fire unique, high-caliber ammunition at arm’s length with extraordinary accuracy and ease. In his hand, she was a death sentence, justice served to those who broke the peace.

Now, Jesse wasn’t sure what peace was.

He turned the revolver over in his hands, fingers grasping her gently, admiring each familiar curve and contour forged of heavy, touch-warmed steel. She was beautiful. A perfect gun for a perfect purpose. His purpose. The one he’d vowed to uphold for the rest of his days.

A purpose he could no longer rightfully claim.

Jesse blinked, and a tear skimmed his cheek, splashing over her barrel. She’d done her duty. He’d spare her this last act of justice. With a soft sigh, he slid Peacekeeper back in her holster and set her down on the nightstand. He pulled back his hand, then stopped, fingertips lingering on her grip.

This was it. This had been the last time he’d ever feel her in his hand.

His fingers slid numbly away and reached for the .22 beside her. A little Ruger, standard military issue, signed out of the Watchpoint armory. Cold and dark and compact, she was everything Peacekeeper wasn’t. All business and no flare - fitting for an execution. Jesse picked her up and racked the slide, the clinical, metallic sound ringing hollow in his ears. Empty. Lifeless.

Raising the muzzle to his temple was too easy. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it, after all. But back then, he’d been a shaking, sobbing mess, as terrified of death as he’d been of the life that awaited him should he live.

He wasn’t afraid now. Now, he felt nothing.

His hand was still as stone, and though tears streamed down his cheeks, his breaths were calm and even, his expression blank. He wasn’t sure why he was crying. Mourning, maybe. Mourning for the lives he couldn’t save, for opportunities won and squandered, and most of all, for his loved ones he’d chosen to leave behind. It wasn’t fair, but then again, nothing really was. And no one could say he wasn’t considerate - he’d chosen the .22 for a reason. The last thing he wanted was leave behind a mess of blood and brains and bone to scoop up off the floor.

Jesse’s finger found the trigger, and he dipped his chin, pushing the smooth metal edge of the muzzle into the damp skin of his temple. More tears fell from his eyes. He already missed Hanzo, missed Reyes, missed Angela. They’d all received special, secret farewells - a soft kiss on Hanzo’s lips, a rose at Reyes’s grave, a sly wink and a playful squeeze of Angela’s shoulder as laughter danced in their ears. That was all he'd had left to give.

He’d left everything as it should be, and that was enough.

Jesse shut his eyes and pulled the trigger, smiling as the world went dark.


End file.
